I just stood there.

A morbid spectator as Bonnie faded from this world.

“Call a fucking helicopter!” Cut didn’t seem to notice his orders fell on deaf ears. I’d never seen him so normal. So afraid and lost.

I paced back and forth, hugging my smarting arm, hoping no one heard his commands. An ambulance would be too slow…but a helicopter? That might be too fast.

Die faster, Bonnie. Faster.

And fate listened.

Life chose its victor.

Me.

Thump…thump-thump—thump.

Heartbeats failing.

Heartbeats ceasing.

Cut cradled his mother as she quickly lost the elderly crone persona and tumbled into an emaciated corpse.

My secrets dying with her.

My sins silencing with her.

However, Bonnie didn’t go quietly. She gave a parting gift, granting her final breath to me, sending me straight to damnation.

“She—” Bonnie gasped. “Dan—Dan—Daniel. She—”

Cut wiped her forehead, pushing away soaked strands of white hair. “Shush, save your strength. The doctors are coming.”

Bonnie spread her lips, lipstick staining her teeth. She knew as well as I did she wouldn’t be living another day. Gathering every last remaining strength, she raised her quaking arm, pointed her finger, and hissed, “She kil—killed hi—him.”

And that was it.

Last heartbeat.

Last breath.

Her eyes latched smugly onto mine, then closed forever.

I’d killed my second Hawk.

But she’d delivered me into terrible torture.

Her arm tumbled to her side, bouncing off her dead flesh, coming to rest awkwardly by her side.

For a moment, the room mourned its owner. Flower petals drooped and curtains twitched with a non-existent breeze.

Then Cut raised his head, eyes glittering with unshed tears, face swelling with unadulterated hatred. “You…”

I raised my scissors, backing away.

He didn’t move, hugging his dead mother, my second victim—stolen, not at my hand, but by the poltergeists of my ancestors.

“You killed Daniel.”

Two choices.

One future.

I was so sick of running. So sick of hiding. So sick of being weak.

I didn’t run.

I didn’t deny it.

Instead, I held my chin high and claimed all that I’d achieved.

I’d won; they’d lost. So be it if my life was now over.

“Yes. Yes, I killed him. I took his life, I disposed of his body, and I enjoyed every damn second of it.”

Cut gasped.

I smiled.

We didn’t move as the next battle was drawn.

NO ONE WANTED to listen to the story of the sinner. The bad guy. The villain.

No one truly cared about my agendas or goals.

No one could comprehend that my actions stemmed from a place of love, family, and commitment to those I cherished.

Did that make me a terrible person?

Could I not put those I cared about before a total stranger?

People did it all the time.

They murdered to protect themselves and loved ones. They willingly forgot the commandments in favour of how they viewed what was acceptable and what was not.

I was no different.

Those who knew me understood my passion and drive. And those who didn’t. Well, I didn’t give a rat’s arse what they thought.

There were rarely two sides to every story. In my long life experience, I’d come to see the truth. There were multiple sides. Pages and pages of sides. A never-ending battle where humans picked what they believed, causing friction and intolerance. Sometimes the choices were for understandable reasons—not justified or rash or right—just…understandable.

And when I understood that magic, I learned how to create the same spell within my own empire.

There was no right and wrong.

There was no black and white.

Those two simple lessons guided me through my life forever.

My reasons for doing what I did made sense to me. They were my dreams, and I was lucky enough to have the power and authority to press those dreams on others.

Was I right? Depended on who you asked.

Was I wrong? Not in my eyes.

And really, that was all that mattered.

I believed in what I did. I loved my family. I adored the power and wretchedness my loved ones could deliver. I gave my entire being to ensuring they thrived.

It all started on the day Alfred ‘Eagle’ Hawk asked me to marry him. The day he went from courting to bent knee, I knew my trials at living within my place in society were over. I hated the airs and graces of stuck-up princesses at the seasonal parties. I hated dealing with egotistical jerks who thought one manor and a career slaving for others meant they could take care of me.

Idiots.

That was just a prison sentence, and I had no intention of sharing a cell with middle-class achievers.

I came from wealthy stock myself. The Warrens owned most of South Hampton and a fleet of transportation that travelled all over the world with merchandise. Mainly, other people’s merchandise—a fact I didn’t like. I didn’t like that we helped others improve their footing in this world.

Finite resources meant me and mine had to share.

I believed those I loved and shared blood with should prosper and those who didn’t shouldn’t. A simple decision that came with so many different sides.

As I grew used to my newfound authority, I decided to forgo my first name of Melanie and rechristen myself as Bonnie.

Bonnie Hawk rose from the ashes of Melanie Warren.